


Where I Want to Be

by Tahlruil



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Afterlife, BAMF Peter Hale, Biting, Blood, Blood Kink Maybe, Creature Stiles, Dark, Demon Stiles Stilinski, Fade to Black, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Light BDSM, M/M, Marking, POV Peter Hale, Peter Got His Revenge, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 04:56:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17318507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tahlruil/pseuds/Tahlruil
Summary: Peter wasn't exactly surprised when he 'woke up' in hell.He'd known his wounds were fatal as soon as he'd gotten them. In truth he'd never expected to still be standing after his quest for revenge had been completed. What mattered was taking the Argent family down with him and making sure they died before he did. Peter had saved Kate and Gerard for last; they had looked into his eyes as they bled out. They had known that he was the instrument of their family's doom and he couldn't ask for more than that.





	Where I Want to Be

**Author's Note:**

> GUYS. THIS IS SO DIFFERENT FROM WHAT I USUALLY WRITE. I suuuper did not know how to tag this, so I did my best? If anything needs to be changed/added, please let me know so I can fix it. I'm bad at tags at the best of times, so. I tried and I'm sorry.
> 
> Many thanks to AylaTheBunny who read this and told me it wasn't crap. XD Otherwise I probably never would have finished it at all.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Comments are love. <3

Peter wasn't exactly surprised when he 'woke up' in hell.

He'd known his wounds were fatal as soon as he'd gotten them. In truth he'd never expected to still be standing after his quest for revenge had been completed. What mattered was taking the Argent family down with him and making sure they died before he did. Peter had saved Kate and Gerard for last; they had looked into his eyes as they bled out. They had known that he was the instrument of their family's doom and he couldn't ask for more than that.

It wouldn't bring back _his_ family, but maybe Derek and Laura would be able to find some kind of peace when they learned what he'd done for them. His niece and nephew never would have been truly safe so long as the Argents breathed. He had been happy to take care of that problem before finally being allowed to die.

Idly he wondered which act it would have been that sealed the deal. The girl whose body he’d left in her parents bed for them to find perhaps, the one with a hint of madness in her eyes that would have turned her into another Kate. Maybe the torture of Argent underlings had been excessive and he probably hadn't needed to kill their family members, the ones that weren't hunters. Even the simple act of wiping out an entire bloodline could have been the thing that tipped the scales.

None of that was the actual reason why, but he was certain he would have ended up here even without his... special circumstances.

He was disappointed that Kate and Gerard weren't there in the twisted landscape to meet him. Perhaps time moved differently here and they had already been ushered into the next phase of their existence. That had better be it or he would be forced to storm heaven in order to drag them down with him where they belonged.

There were a few other souls that were with his, all of them looking terrified and shocked. As he took in their faces he couldn't help but snort - humans never seemed to believe that they were capable of evil. They were always justified in their own eyes which they thought made them righteous.

Peter's actions had been, in his opinion, actual justice... but he still knew that they made him into the kind of monster mothers would warn their children about. He had become the big bad wolf to get his revenge and he would never regret that. Even as the bullets laced with wolfsbane had hit him, all he'd felt was contempt and satisfaction in equal measure. Kate's shots had missed anything vital which gave him enough time to complete his mission. If he'd had anyone to take the bullets out for him he even would have lived to tell the tale.

He hadn't wanted to, so it was lucky he had no one willing to do it for him.

"Oh heavenly father, I beg that you listen to one last prayer." He looked over to find one of the other souls on his knees, hands folded in supplication. The man still wore a priest's frock and probably thought that he should have gone to heaven no matter what he'd vile acts he’d preformed to end up here. "I have been your faithful servant all my life, followed your every command... why have you forsaken me?"

Because humans were herd animals that had managed to fashion themselves false claws to turn from prey to predator, several of the others had dropped down as well. They trusted the priest to lead them in prayer, hoped that he would get them out of this mess that was their own making.

A snort full of derision left him, one he didn't even try to stop. It earned him a few glares but he didn't mind. Even when he'd been alive he hadn't given a fuck what anyone thought of him. Changing that now would be absurd.

The longer they were there, however, the more he fidgeted and wondered. He had been given a promise, one he'd expected would be kept even if the one who'd made it was untrustworthy. They had both known he was going to die, that surviving his revenge would be a torture even worse than his long coma. He had nothing to live for, no pack that he wanted to welcome him 'home'. He was willing to kill for his niece and nephew, to keep them as safe as he could, but he had no desire to rejoin them. Not when he could never forgive them for the way they had abandoned him, left him to rot in the body that had turned into a decaying cage.

No, Peter had not wanted to keep living once his last purpose was carried out. But he hadn't expected to be left waiting so long either. He hadn't expected to be so alone when he got to hell.

"Aren't you going to pray for you immortal soul?" The voice wasn't right, but the dry tone of the words was so for just a second he hoped... but it was just one of his fellow damned.

"No," he answered shortly, not wanting to encourage conversation. His time was better spent scanning the horizon, looking for any sign of... life, for lack of a better word. So far all he had found was barren land for what looked like miles and a few bits flora that looked very much like it might eat anyone who dared walk by. There were rock formations that managed to look tortured, some of the rocks split open to let their insides show. Even that was disturbing, as they looked as though they contained frozen rivers of blood.

There was no sign of the one who'd promised to meet him. Peter had never thought the other was faithless, but perhaps he had been deceived after all.

"Why not? This can't be where you wanted to end up."

"I am _exactly_ where I want to be." There was no use pretending to be polite, so he let a snarl color the words. He had no intention of trying to to make a human friend in hell. "I notice you aren't praying either."

"What's the point? It won't change anything." The man sounded amused more than resigned, and it caught his curiosity. He hadn't noticed anyone who wasn't horrified to realize where they'd all ended up, so either the human was remarkably fast at accepting his fate... or he wasn't a human at all.

"Then why in the world would you encourage me to do it?" Peter finally turned to face the man, and for just a second he could have sworn that eyes the color of whiskey were staring back at him. That moment ended almost before it began, so it was probably his own wishful thinking. He was left staring at a person who was remarkably plain. The man had no discerning features whatsoever, and as soon as he looked away Peter was sure he'd forget that face. It was... disconcerting, really. Because either the man had been born extremely unfortunate or someone had worked very hard to craft such a cunning disguise.

"Because maybe for you it would. Maybe someone - something - could make a case for you. There are exceptions sometimes, rules that can be twisted to suit someone’s purpose."

"And you know this because...?" The 'man' had to be a demon, had to be. And he couldn't help but let himself hope…

"I've been here a long time, Peter. I know the right people to make it happen. There's an angel that calls himself Scott - I could talk him into bringing you upstairs. He’s got a good heart but he’s not very bright."

"Is that so."

"I would never lie to you."

He snorted again, brought back to a conversation he'd had while still trapped inside his own body and mind. It had been just as unbelievable then, because in his experience everyone lied. Besides, he'd been half convinced his brain was concocting a fever dream to keep him from feeling the fire that still licked up the right side of his body.

The fire that he realized now he hadn't felt once since he'd arrived.

"That itself is a lie."

"What makes you say that? You don't even know me."

"I will _always_ know you." He was pretty sure now that he hadn't imagined those eyes, so he took a step further into the man's space. The way his tongue flicked out to lick his lips was fascinating because of who the carefully crafted mask belonged to. There were no moles to trace in this guise, but he would settle for tracing the seam of the man's mouth with his own tongue instead. Maybe the fingers he could see weren’t currently long and elegant, but he had no doubt they would still manage to drive him crazy and wring more pleasure out of him than anyone else he'd ever known. No confirmation had been given, but the man hadn't denied it either. He walked forward until they were chest to chest, interested in the way he had to lean down instead of up to put his mouth against the man's ear. " _Stiles_ ," he purred in the voice that had never failed to make his lover shudder.

Sure enough the man trembled, lower lip pulled between his teeth as his eyes fluttered shut. Hands suddenly gripped his hips hard enough to bruise and he wasn't ashamed of the way he whimpered in pleasure. That possessive hold was one he knew almost as well as his lover's eyes, and he hadn't been abandoned after all.

Though he was a little upset at the way Stiles had tried to sway Peter into abandoning _him_.

"Are you sure you want to be here?" the demon asked as if he'd read his thoughts. "Scott can get you in - I checked. Crusades went out of fashion centuries ago, but I managed to frame everything you did as one. It's a technicality, but--"

"You've always been good at finding those, haven't you sweetheart?" As much as he hated this conversation, he did so love the way Stiles' mind worked. Better still was the way his lover shivered again when he playfully nipped his lower lip. "I'd say I appreciate the thought darling, but I don't. This where I want to be."

"Peter," Stiles whispered, their mouths just barely touching. Each syllable tickled his lips, and all he wanted to do was taste the man his lover had used as a disguise. "If you don't go now then this… hell is forever."

"If I left that would be forever also, would it not? I have no intention of facing down that forever without you." As much as Stiles had always protested his words of devotion, he still seemed to enjoy them. Peter had long ago embraced his inner wolf, even before he became more beast than man. Wolves were loyal, and he had thrown himself very willingly into his relationship with Stiles once he'd realized the demon in his dreams was real. "Do you want me to go Stiles?"

"If you want to."

"Stiles. Sweetheart. Do you want me to go?"

"No," he admitted in whisper, hands flexing where they were still on Peter's hips. "Never. But I had to give you the chance. Actually being here is different than talking about it--"

"I maintain that I am exactly where I want to be. If you keep trying to send me away..." He was pleased to discover that he could still shift and that death had not taken away his control. His claws were the only part of his true nature that he allowed out, and he traced them slowly down Stiles' sides until he reached the demon's hips. He pulled back just enough to look into Stile's eyes, unable to help the pleased rumble that rolled through him when he saw they were the whiskey color he adored so much, practically glowing in the dim light of hell. Carefully, with precision and a delicacy that many wouldn't believe him capable of, he tightened his hold until the tips of his claws sank into Stiles' flesh.

The demon immediately shuddered against him, a moan leaving lips that looked fuller than they had only a moment ago. Without warning claws pierced his own skin and he couldn't help but smirk even as blood welled and it was his turn to moan. Stiles was losing control of that plain, boring body of his and reverting to who he really was.

"One more misguided attempt to send me to heaven," he purred while digging in a little deeper. "And I'll keep my claws to myself for at least a century."

Stiles surged forward and caught his lips in a dark, desperate kiss. Just before his eyes slid shut, he saw the demon's skin turn unnaturally pale, moles of gold and red dotting his body like constellations. Peter knew there would be horns too, ones so black it was like they swallowed any light that touched them. Within heartbeats Stiles was tall enough that he had to tip his head back to keep their kiss from breaking.

His tongue demanded entrance; when Peter denied him he growled and bit down on his lip in a punishment that was its own reward. The blood that sprang from the wound was immediately lapped away while one hand left his hip. Claws soon raked down his back, giving him the pain/pleasure that he had craved his whole life, the sensation intense in a way that only Stiles had ever been able to give him. He couldn't keep his lips from parting to let out a whimpering moan and he wasn't surprised when the demon took immediate advantage.

Stiles could do absolutely obscene things with that long tongue of his, and he wasted no time putting those skills to work. He submitted to the way the demon was plundering his mouth, more than happy to press in close and hang on for the ride. Claws dragged another set of red-hot lines down his back, and though it burned it wasn't anything like the fire that had destroyed his life. This just made him hungry for more, made him impatient for the way Stiles would mark him until his skin was a tapestry of scratches and bites, staking his claim on Peter's soul in blood.

After an indeterminate period of time - it could have been minutes or years - Stiles finally pulled away. He left Peter hard and panting harshly while the demon pressed soft, sweet kisses against his skin.

"Kate and Gerard were here before you, you know. Maybe I should have left them for you, let you torture them for as long as you wanted... but I couldn't, Peter, I'm sorry. They hurt you, tried to break you. You're my wolf, and I had to punish them for ever daring to touch what's _mine_."

"What did you do?" he asked, excitement and hunger and love all combining into a potent, heady mixture. Stiles had done something awful for him, he knew that much. He knew that maybe others would find it unforgivable or horrifying. Peter had never been so turned on his life. His lover was perfect, meeting Peter's darkness with his own and allowing him to revel in it. He let his iron control slip just a little, allowed his teeth to turn into fangs that could rip out a human throat with ease. They sank into the side of Stiles' neck instead, the demon's blood coppery and oh so sweet on his tongue. Stiles keened in pleasure, hips bucking up into Peter's body.

When they finally fucked again it was going to be beautifully bloody. There would be enough pain to sate them both, enough pleasure to make them both want more. But first... first he wanted to know what ‘unforgivable’ thing his demon had done for him.

"I ripped their souls apart with my claws," Stiles panted, already sounding wrecked. "They deserved more than one death for what they did to you and your pack. They--" Peter lunged forward with a snarl, his muscle and the unexpectedness of the action allowing him to take Stiles all the way down to the dry, dusty ground.

He wasn't going to wait for Stiles to take them somewhere private, not after hearing that. All he wanted was to have Stiles's claws and cock buried inside his body, taking every ounce of pleasure he had rightfully earned. The souls around them didn't matter, and he didn't care that they would be watching and judging.

Peter Hale was finally where he was always meant to be. He was ready to take a demon as his mate and spend forever with him in hell. 

It should only be a matter of a century or two before he and Stiles were ready to take it over.

**Author's Note:**

> This was _supposed_ to be something I wrote as a sprint for a writing warm up, but then it sorta took on its own life. Another sprint later and it was largely done and I don't even know. Probably just a one-shot? :'D I dunno.


End file.
